


Where do we go? (In Hithlum)

by BizarreAmy



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Love, Fluff, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 18:56:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21325027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BizarreAmy/pseuds/BizarreAmy
Summary: After Maedhros' decision to move to East Beleriand, the brothers discuss their options.
Relationships: Maedhros | Maitimo & Maglor | Makalaurë, Maedhros | Maitimo & Sons of Fëanor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	Where do we go? (In Hithlum)

**Author's Note:**

> Posted first on my Tumblr.

Maedhros stood poring over a map of Beleriand. He had earlier conveyed his decision to move east to Fingolfin, amidst much protest from his brothers. He did not like it either - truth be told - for it was unseemly to leave Fingon behind again, especially now when he owed him everything. But their movement away from Hithlum was needed to prevent strife between the two Houses of Finwë. Only, where exactly to go was the question.

“Tyelko is still complaining. Loudly at that,” said Maglor as he entered the study. “And Moryo is muttering. Darkly.”

Maedhros let out a dry laugh at the running joke at Caranthir’s expense. It seemed everything about the middle-brother could be described as ‘dark’; even his eyes - which were the darkest shade of grey. Father had named him well. “As I expected,” replied he.

Maglor gave a careless roll of his shoulders, “Thought you should be warned ahead. They’re not far behind.”

And no sooner had the words left his mouth that the rest of the Fëanorions came stomping in. The Ambarussa came in first, offering him solemn nods- so unlike the goofy grins he’d received in Aman. Behind them was Celegorm, who had ceased his colourful cursing that had no doubt been gracing his lips moments before. And Moryo was still pouting but followed Tyelko’s lead in shutting up. Curufin as usual was blank-faced, something he’d learned from their mother and was actually better at it than Maedhros. The eldest had the misfortune of taking after Fëanor as he struggled to keep his emotions from his face. This fact had pained him greatly- both in Tirion as a courtier, and in Angband as a captive. Yet now perhaps Maedhros wouldn’t have to hold back so much, as his scars had permanently painted his face in a dangerous light.

Celegorm came to stand on Maedhros’ left and his expression had been schooled into a facade of calm. “So. East, my lord,” commented he, perusing the markings on the maps. “I assume because it’s unprotected so far.” The rational tone of his voice took both Maedhros and Maglor aback. Despite the large age gap between the first two and the third-born, Celegorm was still the eldest after them and it surprised all but Curufin when he acted like it.

“Yes,” answered Maedhros, a bit slow to make the words leave his mouth. “If we are to fortify against Moringotto, the East passes should be our priority.”

“Hmm. I’ve heard the lands west of Gelion, here in the south-east, make for excellent hunting ground,” pointed out Celegorm. “I think Curvo and I should go there. Make it ready for a retreat if we ever need one.”

“No. Not that far south,” refused he, shaking his head emphatically. “I need you in the upper region. I’m planning to fortify this hill here, Himring. You’ll be close by somewhere.”

“Close because you need our help or because you want us where you can see us?” asked Curufin, astute as always.

And Maedhros was already getting tired of their hostility, “Does it matter why?”

“Yes, it does,” asserted Curufin, straightening up from the slouch he’d been in. “First you make another decision concerning us without consulting us beforehand, and now you expect us to march to your tune with nary a protest?”

Maedhros’ eyes burned with a fire reminiscent of Fëanor’s as his irritation grew. This inability to curb his temper was new, as he had been much mellower in Tirion. After his rescue, he had both pitied and loathed himself, but the moment he’d swung a sword again with his left hand, his inner fire had slowly regained its intensity. And nowadays his rage ebbed and flowed under the tight leash of his mind, like the molten fire he’d seen in Angband - ever ready to burst forth and wreak havoc.

“And what would you have me do?” asked he testily, alternating his eyes between Celegorm and Curufin. “Put Ambarussa on the frontlines?” That promptly silenced them and they lowered their eyes, unable to meet his piercing gaze.

“We can handle it,” interjected Amrod, his tone firm.

Maedhros looked up at the elder twin, his annoyance leaving him at once and he felt a bone-deep weariness settle in. “I know you can,” sighed he. “But I would you rather not.”

“Stop treating us like children, Nelyo,” said Amras, frustration evident on his face. “You’re not the only one who has changed in all these years.”

And Maedhros hunched in on himself, guilt covering his shoulders like a well-worn cloak. What could he say to that? He’d been so arrogant in thinking that he could outwit Morgoth and had left his brothers behind by getting captured. All alone in a strange land with nowhere to call their own. He’d been no better than his father then - the father he himself had resented for dying on them after leading them into yet another exile. But he’d soon learned in Angband that Fëanor had as much control over his destiny as he himself had in those torture chambers. They were all pawns in a much bigger game, with rules set by those stronger and mightier than them. There was no way they would win. Not on their own. But play they must, like puppets on a string, with no way out but death.

“We’re all changed, yes,” spoke Maglor, a hint of rebuke in his voice. “But Maitimo is still our elder brother. Would you not put Telvo’s safety before your own, Pityo?” Chastened, Amrod gave the barest nod and Amras huffed moodily. Satisfied, Maglor continued, “Then how can you expect Nelyo not to put us first?”

Maedhros gave the bard a grateful smile and addressed them again after a moment of silence. “Tyelko has a point. If these south-east lands are indeed a good hunting spot, then we should exploit that. I would have you, Ambarussa, explore these lands. While Tyelko is the best of us when it comes to hunting, it’d be a waste to send Curvo there. And I assume you two wish to stay together?” He directed the question at Celegorm and Curufin, who both nodded in sync in reply. So he turned his head to address the twins, “Then I want you to establish a holdfast there, perhaps near Ramdal, and try to set up a food-supply chain.”

“We will,” affirmed the Ambarussa with determination.

Assured, he shifted his attention to the map laid out on the table before him and asked, “Do we know where the Arafinwions are going?”

Caranthir muttered something that sounded like- “Eru save the place they call their own.” But Maglor ignored it and answered, “I know Ingo is eyeing someplace along the Sirion. And Artaresto would follow him. The rest I know not.”

“I don’t believe we need to worry about Nerwen, at least,” quipped Curufin with a wry twist to his mouth.

Celegorm turned to him with a serious face to say, “You never know with that one.” And the two then dissolved into laughter as if sharing some in-joke, while Caranthir grinned wolfishly, never to miss being amused at any Arafinwion’s expense.

Maedhros shared an exasperated glance of his own with Maglor and was about to speak when Amras spoke up.

“Angaráto and Aikanáro will go to the highlands of Dorthonion.”

“And how came you by this information, Telvo?” demanded Caranthir, a scowl decorating his face.

Amras shrugged, “You hear much by staying unseen.”

“Fancy way of saying you were eavesdropping,” teased Celegorm, smirking at the youngest brother.

“It’s what you taught me during our hunts together, brother,” said Amras, grinning back. “I merely applied it outside hunts too.”

Celegorm positively howled with laughter, “That’s my boy!”

And Maedhros took a moment to soak up the happiness that suffused the air then. Around him, his brothers were all smiling and the tension from before was gone. This was what he would strive for now: his family, together and happy for it. ‘And Tyelpe sleeping apparently,’ thought he as he glanced in the corner where Celebrimbor had contorted his body to fit in the chair after exhausting himself. The kid had come in earlier in the evening, intending to ‘help Uncle Maitimo with anything’ he could, but had fallen asleep not long into making copies of the documents Maedhros had asked for. How that boy could stay asleep amidst the racket that was his brothers, Maedhros would never understand. But he was here and they were all together and that’s what mattered most.

“Well then,” interrupted he, gaining the attention of the rest. “If Dorthonion is taken care of, I think we should fortify this pass here - the Pass of Aglon. Tyelko, Curvo, can I count on you for that?”

“Yes, you can, brother,” promised Celegorm, no trace of resentment visible in his eyes.

“Moryo,” called he, beckoning him forward. “I would place you in Thargelion, if you will. Near this lake, Helevorn I believe. With the mountains surrounding it, should be a good defendable position.” Caranthir studied the map for a bit before he too nodded his assent. “You have no issue with being alone?” queried Maedhros. And Caranthir scoffed with such disbelief that he needed no verbal answer to have it confirmed - that Moryo would prefer it actually.

“And I, Maitimo?” asked Maglor. “Where would you have me be?”

Though Maglor spoke not of it, Maedhros still heard the plea in his voice that beseeched him not to send him too far from him. And Maedhros’ eyes softened as he knew his little brother held some guilt of his own. He hid it well, but Maedhros had always been able to read him like a book. Now was no exception.

“You’re my right hand, brother,” said he, waving his stump around for emphasis. “Where do you think you should be?”

Maglor let go of whatever doubt had been plaguing him and his silver eyes lit up as he pointed at the break between the mountain range just east of Himring. “Here,” replied he, a self-assuredness - that had been so prominent in Tirion - colouring his voice. “This gap shall be my stronghold.”

“Indeed,” confirmed Maedhros. “And I know you will hold it well, Káno.” Maglor smiled in response and Maedhros hesitantly sent him a thought, ‘I trust none other to.’

Maglor looked up at him in surprise as he had not used ósanwe after his rescue. Not once. His long years in Angband had trained him to guard his mind well, even though - by Eru’s grace - no one can access another’s mind without permission. Maedhros had built walls regardless and was reluctant to let them down again. Yet as Maglor’s own mind brushed back with a feeling of love and acceptance so strong that it almost overwhelmed him, Maedhros thought it was worth it.


End file.
